July 2007

[More to come … ]

We’re off to scale a mountain or two.

Bis bald!

Notice anything new? No? Look around a bit more.

[dumdum…]

Oh all right – I have a new graphic ad in my sidebar. See it?

That’s right, I’ve sold my soul to Iceland Express, and very happy I am about it, too. I think every blogger should have graphic ads on their blog as long as they’re in good taste because, you know, it’s so hard to get published these days. And that’s because people don’t read books any more, they read blogs. And so isn’t it grand that bloggers can actually make a little bit of dosh doing what they love and thus feel rewarded and appreciated, and not have to grovel at the feet of some self-important literary agent in order to maybe, maybe, penetrate that brutal, armed fortress known as The Publishing Industry?

[Yes, I’ve been there, done that, and maybe one day I shall tell you about it.]

Anyway, that’s not what I’m here to talk about – I’m here to tell you about Niceland ‘Spress, which I’m really happy to endorse because they were instrumental in rescuing the Icelandic nation from the monopolistic clutches of old Icelandair. For years and years Icelandair were the only airline serving this tiny nation, which meant that in order to get off the rock we had to pony up whatever extravagant sum they determined we should pay – which unfailingly was about double or triple what passengers travelling from the US and Europe were paying. In real terms this meant that we were subsidizing the low-cost fares Icelandair was offering the punters who flew across the Atlantic. A bitter pill indeed, that unfortunately we were forced to swallow.

That is until low-cost airline Iceland Express stormed onto the scene about five years ago. They started with two destinations, London and Copenhagen, and Icelandair instantly dropped their fares to Europe. Gradually, with added competition, Icelandair lowered their other prices as well, even to destinations that IE doesn’t serve [the US]. Since then Iceland Express have added a bunch more destinations and now fly to a total of 13 cities [at least this summer, see their schedule here] and if news reports over the last few days are to be believed, they are now looking to the Canadian market, what with the freshly-signed aviation agreement with Canada.

Plus – and this is the clincher – an announcement came the other day that Iceland Express is making plans to advance into the domestic flights market. Air Iceland – an Icelandair subsidiary – currently holds the monopoly on domestic flights and uses it to its full advantage – anyone who has ever taken a domestic flight within Niceland will understand. For instance, flying Reykjavík to Egilsstaðir, in the east, costs about the same as flying from Iceland to London, which is obviously just … wrong. From what I understand these plans hinge on Iceland Express having proper facilities at the domestic airport, an issue that they supposedly are trying to resolve in conjunction with city authorities. So if they could work their magic on the domestic flights market, similar to what they did to the international one, I’m sure we’d all be more than ecstatic.

IT’S SO DARK OUT THERE RIGHT NOW, YOU’D THINK IT WAS WINTER ALREADY
It’s been raining and overcast all day long and, of course, the day keeps getting shorter. It’s amazing how quickly it happens after the summer solstice – after a month or so of round-the-clock daylight it’s suddenly dark for a couple of hours around midnight. It’s been raining on-and-off all day, and is decidedly gloomy. People are carrying around a long face again, including YT. Actually, it just makes me want to go to sleep, which is precisely what I think I’ll do now. Currently 13°C [55F] and sunrise was at 3:55 am, sunset at 11.10.

PS. Incidentally, Niceland ‘Spress have a blog, to which I shall occasionally be contributing.

A couple of days ago, V. was kind enough to bestow on me something called a ‘Blogging Community Involvement’ award, because apparently my blog has the ‘power of schmooze’. I have no idea what that is or where the ‘award’ comes from, but no matter – V’s kind words accompanying the accolade are the true award – or should I say ‘reward’. I always find it tremendously rewarding when someone says something nice about my writing and my blog, particularly when it’s said in a sincere way. In this case it was both sincere and eloquent – although I hasten to say that the eloquence is entirely optional. I’ve had people email me with heartwarming remarks that would probably never be classified as eloquent, but were lovely and touching just the same.

Having said that – and I certainly hope this isn’t misconstrued – I really don’t know what to make of all these ‘awards’ that seem to be floating around the blogsphere these days. They seem to be a dime a dozen and to have all sorts of names – ‘thinking blogger award’, ‘rockin blogger award’, ‘rising blogger award’, etcetera, and after they’ve been bestowed, the bestowee is supposed to pass them on to another five ‘rockin’, ‘thinking’, ‘rising’ or whatever bloggers. Remind you of anything? Send this email to five people, including the person who sent it to you, otherwise all manner of calamities will befall you and you will never be the same as long as you live. Oh yes. Those dreaded emails that practically choked cyberspace about five or ten years ago.

So – I guess what I’m trying to say is, while it seems that many of these ubiquitous ‘awards’ are cheap attention-grabbers [and sometimes money-makers], the sentiment behind them is often eloquent and sincere – just as were many of those well-meaning emails we all routinely and dutifully forwarded to our family and friends back in the day. And while I am definitely touched and honoured by people saying nice things about my writing, this ‘pass this on to five people’ charade really makes me cringe, not to mention the thought of having a bunch of gaudy squares of dubious origin cluttering up my sidebar. And anyway, I couldn’t possibly pick five bloggers to award, because I love different blogs for different reasons. Some for their stellar writing, some for their humour, some for their warmth and unaffectedness, and some just because they resonate with me on some inexplicable level.

RIGHT. CAN WE MOVE ON TO SOMETHING INNOCUOUS, LIKE THE WEATHER?
Sure. Guess what we saw this morning when we got up? Rain! Which meant there was only one place to spend the afternoon: Penis Mall. This time we focused on getting EPI some new clothes – that dreaded chore that becomes a requirement every two years or so, when the old clothes fall apart and/or become hopelessly outdated – neither of which EPI seems to have a great aptitude for noticing, bless. We hit pay dirt: he is now the proud owner of two very smart new jackets, a new pair of Levi’s, and three new shirts. Score. Oh, incidentally, guess what? Icelandair announced today that they will be starting regular scheduled flights to Toronto next spring, about 20 years too late for our YT to really take advantage, but hey, better late than never. This because of a new aviation agreement between the Canadian and Icelandic governments – and not to be negative or anything, but it’s about frigging time! Other Canadian destinations are on the drawing board, so all you readers in Canada who keep on about how you’re going to visit Iceland someday [you know who you are - wink] your excuses for not coming are rapidly becoming obsolete. Currently 14°C [57F] and sunrise was at 3:52 am, sunset at 11:13 pm.

Went out with my friend Sandy tonight, who is visiting from Canada and who I haven’t seen in about eight years. We became friends about 13 years ago, when I’d just moved back to Niceland and had my first whiplash injury [have I ever mentioned that the Icelanders have the most horrific traffic culture in the Western hemisphere? No? Well, they do] and I was sent to a physiotherapist who turned out to be Sandy and who just happened to be from Canada where, of course, I grew up. So over various exercises on big balls and balancing gadgets and suchlike we started yacking away about anything and everything, including men and our assorted problems with them. Finally, a couple of years later, Sandy threw in the towel with her man and moved back to Canada with her sons and has now made a life for herself there and it’s all good. And now she’s back for a visit.

As ever, from the moment Sandy and I get together, we start talking and don’t stop, and when we part ways it feels like we have even more things unsaid than when we started. Of course we had lots of catching up to do and very little time in which to do it, so our chins were wagging at a frantic pace all evening. First, we went to the little café above the IÐA bookshop in Bankastræti, which is my favourite café for a chinwag because it’s relatively quiet and the tables aren’t all squished together like in most other places, so you can actually reveal fairly intimate details of your life without the whole place knowing about them. So we ordered tea and she told me all about her boyfriend and her work and her house and her ex and so on and so forth, and then she asked me how my neck was, which made me all warm and fuzzy because I do believe she’s the only person in the world who ever asks me that and who is actually, like, fascinated by the details. And so I told her.

So right around the time I was finishing it was ten o’clock and IÐA was closing and of course we had far more things left to talk about than when we started, so we decided to go somewhere else. We walked up Bankastræti and on to Laugavegur and decided to go into that little place called Kofi Tómasar frænda [Uncle Tom’s Cabin], even though we really didn’t feel like drinking any more liquids - we just wanted a place to sit to continue blabbing. So we go in there and I noticed immediately what everyone’s been complaining about since the smoking ban was imposed in June, that now the cigarette smoke is gone, the places just stink - of old stale booze and ancient smoke and BO and toilets. Anyway, we sat down at a table and in between yacking were sort of glancing at the menu deciding what we might force ourselves to order so we could continue sitting there. And you know what? We sat there for a full hour, right next to the bar, and nobody came to take our order. And after half an hour I was, like, ‘Should we go up there and order something?’ and she went, ‘Um, well, I’m OK’ and I said, ‘Great, because I’m OK too,’ and for the first time ever I was actually not in the least bothered by the atrociousness of Icelandic service.

On the way back to the car, Sandy outlined for me the three things she’s noticed have changed since she lived here. 1) There are more flowers everywhere, 2) the grass is brown for the first time ever, 3) people are fatter. Make of that what you will.

I MAKE THIS: THE GRASS IS BROWN BECAUSE OF ALL THE SUN
… and the lack of rain we’ve had for the last month. Really, this is a most unusual state of affairs for us - normally this place is brilliant green in summer, but right now the earth is scorched. Meanwhile, the weatherman sez it’s just a weather system that has locked into place - fortunately for us it’s been locked in sunshine, whereas for the poor Brits it’s locked in rain. We’re in for some of that this weekend, though, and the grass will breathe a sigh of relief. Right now it’s 12°C [54F] and the sun will come up at 3:46 am and set at 11:19 pm.

I wonder what exactly we’ve done to deserve such excellent weather day after day after day. I can’t remember the last time we had rain; it’s been sunny practically ever since my relatives from Canada were here, which makes it exactly one full month of sunshine. And this while other parts of the world are being rained on for days on end and having to endure floods and all manner of other calamities. We must have some accumulated serious credit with the weather gods, is all I’m saying.

Yesterday, after going for a run and performing assorted [light, very light] domestic chores, EPI and I wandered down to the city centre to check if it was still there, seeing as how we hardly ever go down there, even though being in close proximity to it is one of our main arguments for continuing to live in postal code 101. And, in fact, when we got there we weren’t quite sure if it was, or if it had somehow magically been replaced by some other city centre normally situated in mainland Europe. Because people were, like, relaxed. And sitting at outdoor cafés with sunglasses on and grinning like mad. Austurvöllur square was full of people just flopping on the grass and these two guys had this dj-slash-techno sound going and everybody was, like, groovin’. After we’d hung around for a while and talked to a handful of people we knew [we think - they had sunglasses on and were grinning so we weren’t sure] we took the scenic route back home along Tjörnin. Being spellbound by the laid-back atmosphere in town, we even stopped to smell [i.e. photograph] the roses on the way and to observe a mommy duck teaching her wee ducklings how to dive.

On arriving home, what should we find but our neighbours sitting out in the backyard about to inaugurate the picnic table we bought for the house last week and which EPI and one of our neighbours screwed together and then unscrewed, not once, not twice, but three times. [For safety reasons they had to make absolutely sure it held, or so they claim.] They insisted we come have dinner with them and it turned into a great backyard picnic that lasted until around 10.30 pm or until the sun had finally disappeared around the side of the house.

Then today - another lazy day of sunshine. EPI and I headed for the pool in the early afternoon and much to our astonishment, AAH decided to join us and wasn’t even jonesing to leave after half an hour. We flopped on sun benches with iPods attached, only interrupting our sun worshipping to fetch ice cream and/or cool off in the pool. Yes, truly. If you’ve ever been to Iceland, you’ll understand how absurd that statement is, because normally? We go in the pool to warm up.

Anyway, it’s all been very strenuous and exhausting and I’m about ready for a nap. Which probably won’t happen as I think we’re due for another round of dining at the picnic table this evening. That is, if the wind doesn’t thwart our plans, because it’s suddenly kicked up a bit. Temps right now are 16°C [60 F] and sunrise was at 3:40 am, sunset due for 11:25 pm.

Here’s a heartwarming story from the back page of Morgunbladid today: this young Swiss couple got their rented vehicle stuck in the middle of the Krossá river in Þórsmörk last Sunday [Þórsmörk is one of Iceland’s most incredibly beautiful locations, but you have to cross rivers to get there and they can be treacherous … cannot be crossed by a normal family vehicle, for example]. So while the park wardens were on their way out there on a tractor to pull them out the couple were inside the car with water up to their armpits and waves splashing over it so they didn’t know if they were fully submerged or not. And the girl was trying her best to save their valuables and couldn’t understand why the guy was most concerned about his jacket, until this little box comes floating out of the jacket and the guy grabs it, and it has a ring inside. He asks her to marry him and they think this is it for them, so she says she’ll marry him if he saves them. And at that point, the wardens showed up on the tractor and pulled them ashore.

AW!!

So that evening a huge barbecue was held in their honour and they were offered luxury accommodation [at least when compared to a tent] in the hut on the site, as they are probably the first people ever to get engaged in the middle of Krossá. THE END.

SIGH. I WISH I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF KROSSÁ RIGHT NOW
And on my way over to Þórsmörk, because the weather is fabulous and it is possibly the most amazingly gorgeous place in the world when it’s like that [and even when it’s not]. We’re in for more sunshine over the coming days and now EPI and I are both officially on holiday and we shall have to see what we do with it. Ah, this is the life! No pressure, no stress. Currently sunny with some clouds, and 16°C [61F]. Sunrise was at 3:34 am and sunset due for 11.30 pm.

Friends, I have deprived you long enough of the googlies* that have drifted upon my shores these past weeks. So without further ado, here are some of the more, ahem, curious specimens.

icelandic smoked fish sheep poo
(from Newham, Stratford)
Mmmm … is there no end to Nicelandic delicacies?

Photo of Icelandic girl milk shower
(from Sweden)
Yes - I confess, we shower in milk up here. How do they know these things??

www.icelandtouristboars.is
(from the US)
Well, okay, some of our tourists are pigs, but by no means, not all!

bluish penis circulation
(from can’t remember where)
Somewhere out there is a very worried man …

wery big penis
(from Lithuania)
… Is located in Kópavogur and masquerades as a shopping mall. Oh, and apparently the Lithuanians have the same ‘v’-'w’ confusion as the Nicelanders, bless!

Tom Jones large penis
(from Tucson, Arizona)
Um ….

how can I become icelandic
(from Norfolk, UK)
Okay, I think my work here is done.

AND THE MOST POPULAR GOOGLIE OF THEM ALL …
‘iceland weather’. Today’s was mostly cloudy, although the sun broke through around noon and sort of came and went throughout the afternoon. And it was warm - sort of humid, which is a novelty around here. Temps were up around 14°C [56F] and are a degree cooler now, 13°C. It’s amazing how the minutest decrease in daylight has an effect on the psyche - I am all too well aware of the fact that we reached the zenith of the season with the solstice, and that we’re now into the waning of daylight. The summer really is so short here in Iceland - you blink, you miss it. Sunrise today was 3:28 am and sunset at 11:35 pm.

* For those who don’t know, googlies are words people use for Google searches that wind up on the Iceland Weather Report’s stat counter.

Once again, Iceland has been awarded the dubious honour of being at the top of the Big Mac index. What this means, in practice, is that a Big Mac costs more here than in any other country in the world.

I wonder if there is any connection between this and the fact that McDonald’s food tastes worse in Iceland than in any other country in the world? Honest: never have I tasted food as artificial as at an Icelandic McDonalds. Plus, the service sucks. Take it from one whose first job was slinging burgers at McD’s, and who since then has not been able to call a ‘rag’ a ‘rag’ or ‘garbage’ ‘garbage’ without flinching*.

I guess the moral of the story is: if you must eat a hamburger whilst in Niceland, go for a Tommyburger. You won’t be sorry.

OH ALL THIS HOPELESSLY DREARY SUNSHINE IS DOING ME IN
Yes: it’s sunny again. Sigh. So much for my plans to tweak my template, refresh my profile, try to figure out why the colour of the banner in my archives is different from the index page, or catch up on any number of other indoor-related projects. Outdoor activities beckon. Right now it’s a lovely 14°C with just the slightest hint of a breeze. Sunrise today was at 3:26 am and sunset at 11:38 pm.

* They had a special lexicon at McDonald’s - certain words were taboo. ‘Rag’ was always called ‘bar towel’, ‘garbage’ was ‘waste’, and ’small’ was never to be uttered. Things were not ’small’ at McDonalds, they were ‘regular’, as in ‘regular fries, sir?’. And when the customer left, we were always required to say something like ‘Hope to see you again soon!’. Predictably, I lasted about as long there as a the fizz in a cup of ‘regular coke’.